Slacker, Richard Linklater's landmark
1991 independent film, is ostensibly a celebration of Austin's self-proclaimed
"slacker" culture, a loose-knit hodge-podge of eccentrics, oddballs, loners,
artists, intellectuals, anarchists, pseudo-intellectuals, conspiracy
theorists, superfreaks, what-have-you. The film, as it were, presents no
driving narrative, no real plot to speak of, and nary a whisper of a storyline.
Linklater's film starts with a single character - a young man stepping off of a
bus (played by Linklater himself) - who has evidently spent hours mentally
tumbling with Schrodinger's feline. Stepping into a taxi, he wildly relates his
flexible theories vis-à-vis
the space/time continuum to a completely unresponsive and uninterested
driver. Exiting the taxicab, he witnesses a hit-and-run accident in which an
elderly lady is left seemingly dead in the road. As he runs to a payphone to
contact authorities and the woman's relatives, the camera pans back down the
suburban street, into a driveway as a car quickly pulls in - the same car that
hit the elderly lady. As it turns out, the driver of the car was the woman's own
son, and the camera follows him into the house. He receives a phone call from
the witness up the street, informing him of the accident. He nonchalantly plays
it off, and turns to some rather bizarre activities: clipping pictures out of a
high school yearbook and burning them, and playing home
movies featuring a mother and son on a continuous loop The cops
arrive and arrest him, an event witnessed by a local musician. This musician
ends up writing and performing an impromptu song about the arrest, which is
overheard by a young lady heading to a coffee shop.
And this young lady...

This chain of events continues throughout the course of 100-minute film.
Rather than existing as an intricate demonstration of causality and collectivity
of consciousness and responsibilty, a la Phil Hay's and Matt Manfredi's
masterful Bug of 2002, Slacker
simply acts as a wandering eye, passing from character to
character, peering at various events, conversations, insights, and whispers. The
viewer's appreciation of Linklater's film rests solely upon their tolerance for
such a conceit. The phrases "tone poem", "contemplative meditation", "cinematic
exercise free from the constraints of traditional narrative" are inevitably
thrown around when discussing Slacker. The truth of the matter is that the
film showcases a searing and often joyous blast of independent cinema, eschewing
conventional prefabricating storytelling and narrative drive and presenting
various "slices of life" that permeate slacker culture. Perhaps there is a
thread of commonality weaving through this series of continuous vignettes, a
universality of human condition that Linklater is trying to expose or put on
display or condemn or condone. Then again, maybe Linklater simply wants to bend
his ear and listen to the rhythm of the late 80s/early 90s bohemian subculture.
If there isn't a singular point or plot, there's certainly a vibe and a sense of
movement throughout the film.

If I noticed anything that seemed to present something of a theme
in Slacker, it was that
the people presented in the film were either (a) vainly looking for something
that they did not possess, (b) seemingly bursting with something, anything, to
share with the world, but were either unable or unwilling to properly open up or
express themselves accordingly, or (c) obliquely and/or blissfully trapped
within the confines of their own consciousness/self/pscyhe. It's easy to
chortle at the conspiracy theorist ghag follows people home and annoys them past
the point of polite tolerance, or the crazy lady at the lunch counter who drones
endlessly about sexual exploitation and her imaginary medical degree. Easily the
most compelling vignette deals with an old Anarchist (played by Louis Mackey),
who encounters an armed robber in his home. He takes the robbery in stride, and
soon afterwards escorts the robber on a walking tour of Austin, cheerfully and
amiably sharing his theories on the destructive and selfish nature of humanity.
It's so well played, so beautifully delivered, and so haunting that it somehow
(in my view) emerges as the film's spiritual pulse.

I don't think Slacker is a
perfect movie. It goes on a bit too long, and many of the scenes try the
patience of the most hardened of avid independent-cinema fans. But just when the
film seems to meander a bit too much, it tilts again and presents some
remarkably compelling material. The film ends abruptly with a group of
revellers, forcing the viewer to reflect upon the seeming randomness of the
preceding 100 minutes. Was there a point to be made, or did Linklater simply
meander without reason or rhyme? Or was the deepest, most esoteric secrets of
life hidden somewhere within Madonna's pap smear and Coke-stealing peeping toms?
If there's anything to be glamed from Slacker, it's all in the grinding of the tale
and wandering eye of the cinema. Thirteen years later, even surrounded by a host
of mediocre imitations, Slacker
still maintains its urgent potency.

The DVD

Video:

Slacker is presented in its original,
full-frame aspect ratio of 1.33:1, sporting a brand-newest digital restoration
supervised by Richard Linklater and DP Lee Daniel. The resulting video probably
looks as magical as Criterion could allow. I say probably because,
objectively, the film was originally shot on 16mm on a budget that cost less
than your car, and the inherent limitations of the utilized film stock will
pretty much guarantee that Slackerwill
never look like Finding Nemo. On the plus side, the transfer is pretty
clean throughout, free from distracting dirt, debris, scratches, compression
noise and blocking. Colors are stable and richly rendered, with smart contrasts
and a remarkably stable picture. Image detail varies, with sharpness levels
ranging from very soft to acceptable. The 16mm grain structure is notably
evident throughout the transfer, retaining the original film-like appearance.
Some might view the grain levels as excessive; others will view it as a natural
and acceptable by-product of the film's original delivery. Your mileage may
vary. The transfer falters a little in its shadow delineation, in which a few
scenes seem a little lifeless during moments of flat darkness. Other than that,
there's very little for which once can really complain about this transfer.
The flaws in the transfer are generally relatable to the original source
material, and keeping that in mind Slacker
looks very impressive.

Audio:

The audio is
presented in a mostly monaural Dolby Digital 2.0 soundtrack, and has also
been restored by Criterion. The mix is remarkably clean; this movie is driven
by its quirky dialog,
and it is presented without hiss, noise, or distortion. Dialog
volume is
remarkably crisp. The subtlest of lines,
whispered dialog, and throwaway observations are reproduced with brightness and clarity, without requiring the viewer
to dive for their remote to catch what's going
on.
Background noise and music
are kept mostly in the frontstage, save for a bit of score
and music over the final credits in which some
noticeable surround activity is evident. Overall, this is a clean and
pleasing transfer that doesn't need multi-channeled aggression or immersion to create a
satisfying audio experience.

Extras:

Buckle up.

Disc
One

The supplements on Disc One start with
not one, not two, but threeaudio commentary
tracks. The first track features director Richard
Linklater. Recorded in March 2004, Linklater talks animatedly and engagingly
throughout the entire commentary. Linklater considered his film to be a "kitchen
sink" film, an organic and collaborative work that grew out of his desire
to create something that culled multiple experiences, local/urban legends, and
varying points-of-view. He provides a host of screen-specific remarks that
detail individual vignettes, information about the cast and crew, and a wealth
of production anecdotes. A fine commentary track, this is essential
listening for fans of the film.

The second commentary track
features various members of the cast (Rudy Basquez, Jerry Delony, Scott Marcus,
Gina Lalli, Louis Black, Sarah Harman, John Slate, Kathy McCarty, Kalman Spelletich,
Scott Rhodes, R. Malice, and Wammo), recorded in 2001 and 2004, who obviously
provide commentary during the scenes in which their characters appear. From
actor/edit Scott Rhodes we immediately learn where the term "slacker" originated,
as well as how it applies to this film; we then seigue into Rudy Basquez's
commentary, he who played the taxi driver who picked up Richard Linklater's
character off of the bus, and so forth and so on. Each participant provides
insightful information towards the production and their characters. While not as
compelling as Linklater's commentary, it still makes for an interesting and
moderately engaging track.

The third commentary
features a conversation with the crew, this time consisting of
director Richard Linklater, director of photography Lee Daniel, and co-producer
Clark Walker. These three members of the legendary "Slacker Seven" talk about their
close-knit friendship that revolved around the Austin Film Society, and provide a
feature-length, more technically-oriented discussion about the production. While
moderately enjoyable, it's easily the least compelling and most technical
commentary on the disc. Still, it is more than worth a
listen.

The Supplements A-Go-Gosection (a snarky nod, if there ever was one) is broken down into five
sub-sections:

No Longer: Not Yet
contains text pages from the original script for No Longer: Not
Yet, the original title for Slacker.
The film is broken down into forty-five separate sequences, many of which ended
up in the final film.

Showing Life is
dedicated to the unique cast of the film, most of which had little or no acting
experience and many having been literally pulled "off the street" to participate
in the film. It contains a text intro by casting director Anne
Walker-McBay and fourteen minutes of cast interviews.

Taco-And-A-Half After
10 contains twelve minutes of home-movie footage shot on the set of
Slacker. It's not the most memorable of
footage, but it nonetheless provides for a moderately interesting
"behind-the-scenes" look.

Les Amis is a
ten-minute trailer (!) for Nancy Higgins's film Viva Les Amis, a film
dedicated to the legendary Austin restaurant that was home to slackers, artists,
intellectuals, and various eclectics throughout the Austin community. A victim
of corporate uniformity, the restaurant was closed when, due to the technology
boom of the nineties, it could no longer afford its skyrocketing rent and now
houses something called "Starbucks" (never heard of 'em). The trailer looks at
various other local landmarks that were closed and replaced with national
chains and franchises, and showcases some of the local talent, artists,
musicians, and employees that made a home out of Les Amis. For a trailer, this
was one hell of a short feature. I would love to see the finished
product.

Shooting From The Hip
contains dozens of behind-the-scenes and publicity photographs of
various members of the cast and crew. There is also an Easter
Egg containing the entirety of a text essay entitled Austin and the
Fine Tradition of Slack by R. U. Steinberg (I am not.) To find it, go to
the Supplements A-Go-Go section, highlight "Shooting From the Hip",
press the left arrow on your remote, and press "Enter."

Now on to Disc
Two...

The primary extra on the second disc is
It's Impossible To Lean To Plow By Reading Books ,
Richard Linklater's 1988 film and his first full-length feature, presented in
its entirety. The 85-minute film is presented for the first time on home video in
this collection, and is displayed in its original full-frame aspect ratio
and monaural Dolby Digital 1.0 sound. The quality of the transfer is shaky,
grainy, soft, and of somewhat limited resolution. It was shot on Super-8, so
exactly what else would someone expect?

Linklater delivers a feature length
audio commentary in which he discusses the influence of movies
on his own personal development, and how he wanted to depict his current
life through the cinematic medium. The film itself is described as an "oblique
narrative" and "visual experience", and a meditation on alienation, although to
many that might translate to "pretentious and meandering self-indulgence." So be
it. I somewhat enjoyed the film, with its long takes, quiet observations, and
its stark presentation of quiet isolation. Could it have been trimmed and
judiciously edited? Sure. But as a debut feature, it displayed a lot of promise
upon which Linklater definitely delivered with his later
work.

Our look into Linklater's cinematic
past continues with Woodshock , a 16mm short film
shot by Linklater and Lee Daniel, chronicling the 1985 Woodshock music festival.
Linklater and Daniel attempted to pay homage to sixties cinematic psychedelia
with this seven-minute short. And if you took one look at Woodshock,
you'd be hard-pressed to convince anyone that this was filmed at any time later
than 1968. In that regard, the short is a rousing success. It also demonstrates
an amateurish but promising cinematic eye that would come into fruition with
later films.

The Austin Film Society
section details information about the AFS, which was co-founded in 1985
by Linklater. This section contains an article by Denise
Montgomery, an essay by Lee Daniel, and reproductions of
several flyers produced during the first ten years of the
society's existence. A quick perusal shows that the AFS hosted screenings of
various independent, foreign, classic, and experimental films, featuring works
by Bunuel, Anger, Fassbinder, Minnelli, Dreyer, Bresson, Pasolini, Kubrick,
Renoir, Brakhage, Ozu, Fuller, Cassavetes, Bergman, and many others. You know...
would it have killed these guys to have packed up their stuff and moved
to Miami in the mid-1980s? We had nothing like this here.
Grrr....

Moving right along... Aint No
Film In That Shit contains some further bonus material. The Roadmap
contains the entire text working script of the film,
broken down into 55 separate sequences and highlighted by fourteen
deleted scenes and alternate takes. You can view the scenes
with or without viewing the working script by utilizing the "Play All"
function.

Rounding out the supplements are the
film's three-minute original theatrical trailer, a text
reproduction of Linklater's 1991 essay on "Slacker Culture",
and a twenty minutes of video footage shot during the 2001
tenth anniversary screening of the film.

Final
Thoughts

Boasting a wonderfully restored digital transfer and
several hours worth of high-quality bonus materials, Criterion's release of
Slacker on DVD
makes for one of the most exhaustive and comprehensive DVD collections ever,
even judged by their own inimitably high standards. Fans of the film
will be absolutely elated, both with the presentation of the material and
the absolutely copious amount of extras: three commentary tracks, the
original and final shooting script, on-set video footage, trailers,
interviews, deleted scenes, alternate takes, photographs, and more. Yet
this two-disc set is not just a comprehensive examination of
Slacker, as it also celebrates
the early career of Richard Linklater, and the inclusion of his first
feature-length film (with commentary), a short film, essays, involvement with
the Austin Film Society, and more add up to a two-disc collection with nearly
ten hours of bonus material... and that's aside from a fine
presentation of a celebrated independent film. On that basis alone, I must award
this two-disc set the highly coveted DVD Talk Collector's Edition
rating. Do not let this set pass you by.